The Boy Next Door
by Vivi Dahlin
Summary: An alternate outcome for Brian's assualt on Abby in A Simple Twist of Fate. A bit o' Carby. Leaning towards an R rating due to some strong violence.
1. It Could Have Been A Lot Worse

Author's Note: This is my first ER fanfiction, guys, so be gentle. Most of it is finished but I'm posting this first chapter to see what the reviews are like before I add the rest (don't ask why, I just wanted to). Also, keep in mind that I am not a doctor so I have limited knowledge of medical terms and procedures.  
  
Disclaimer: (Because everyone else seems to have one.) The characters used in this story are not mine, no matter how much I wish they were. (Can't I just have Abby??) Well, except for a few patients I made up.  
  
*= This title refers to what Susan said after finishing her medical examination of Abby in "A Simple Twist of Fate."  
  
Chapter 1  
  
"It Could Have Been A Lot Worse"*  
  
The pain was excruciating. In the past Abby had woken up with some massive hangovers, but the fear that was now pulsing through her body seemed to heighten the throbbing sensation in her head ten times worse than she had ever felt it the morning after a drinking binge. She finally forced her eyelids open and blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. A drop of something wet was on her face and her hand immediately felt around for the source. When she drew it back, her fingers were smeared with blood. And that's when it all came flooding back to her. Brian banging at the door, Abby making the mistake of even cracking it open just the slightest bit. Her heart pounded as she replayed the scene in her mind, the chain snapping off the door, trying to back away from Brian but unable to get anywhere, and then the impact of his fist that knocked her flat on her back.  
  
Still slightly dazed, Abby struggled to sit up. She looked towards the front door, which was now shut. The kettle on the stove was whistling so loudly she could barely think straight. And then she suddenly remembered the phone. She had dialed 9-1-1... had it gone through? And would Brian be coming back? Forcing herself to think quickly, she got to her feet as steadily as possible and looked for the phone. That's when she realized she was not alone in the apartment.  
  
"I told them it was a mistake." Brian was seated on Abby's sofa, the cordless phone dangling from his hands by its antenna. He lifted it for her to see. "The police. I said the kids were playing with the phone."  
  
Abby stared blankly at the man, trying to comprehend what he was saying. He had just hit her with more force than anyone ever had in her entire life, so hard she blacked out, and now he was sitting on her couch and talking to her like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Crazy SOB. "Brian, get out of my apartment," she said, mustering as much courage as she could. She could feel blood trickling over her lips and chin, and she rubbed it away with the back of her hand, cringing at how much of it there was. "I'll have you arrested for assault, you sick fu-"  
  
The man sprang from his seat with such speed it made Abby flinch. "All I want to know is where my wife is. I have that right. I am her husband! If you hadn't stuck your nose in where it didn't belong, none of this would have happened," Brian was saying, his voice loud and aggressive. "This is your fault, Abby. And I'm not going anywhere until you give me an answer."  
  
Blocking out his ranting, Abby was forming a plan for escape. They were both about the same distance from the door, but Brian had the furniture to maneuver around. All she had to do was spin around and run. She hesitated only for a moment, and then she sped straight for her only way out of the apartment. Her hand was almost on the door when two strong hands clamped down on her shoulders, squeezing painfully. Abby gave a frightened cry as Brian shoved her away from the door and pinned her against the wall.  
  
"Stop ignoring me, you bitch!" he screamed, his face just inches from hers. He clenched at her shoulders again, giving them another rough push back.  
  
"Brian!" Abby barely recognized her own voice, its high, frantic pitch sounding unfamiliar. "Please, let me go..." She squirmed like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap, but Brian easily overpowered her. His hand covered her mouth, blocking the scream for help she was about to give.  
  
The dead look in his eyes made Abby's skin crawl. She had seen the same thing when she opened the door minutes ago. If only she hadn't opened the door!  
  
"You took her away from me," Brian said, his voice cracking. "You took her away from me. I can't let you do that." Twisting his hands into the silky fabric of Abby's robe, which by now was stained with her blood, he slung the woman away from the wall and sent her crashing to the floor. She was quick, scrambling on her hands and knees to get away, but Brian was quicker. Abby yelped in pain as his foot connected with her side, knocking the wind out of her. So this is what his wife had lived with everyday. Joyce had to be as twisted as Brian was, Abby thought.  
  
Clutching her side, defeated, Abby crumpled into a ball on the floor. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, making paths like little rivers through the sticky red blood that was drying on her face. She had never been so scared. Not even when she was a child and her mother had chased her through the house with a kitchen knife. At least Abby had known Maggie was someone who loved her, even if the woman was sick in the head. But Brian was sick in the head, and he obviously had no compassion for Abby whatsoever.  
  
Other than the piercing whistle of the kettle, the only sound in the room was Brian's heavy footsteps as he circled the broken figure on the floor like a restless wolf deciding which position was best to attack its prey. His eyes traveled over the flesh exposed through Abby's light robe, which was no longer wrapped as tightly around her after the struggle. He remained fixated for a moment, not a single muscle in his stony face twitching when Abby whimpered softly.  
  
"Maybe if you had a man of your own you'd understand. You don't come between two people in love. You don't mess with something like that," he muttered. His words sounded far away and meaningless to Abby. She felt like she was going to throw up. "Someone should have taught you that," he was saying, resolved. Abby cowered as he lowered himself to the floor. Brian yanked her towards him, forcing her knees apart. And then his hands were on her again, rough and groping, when before they had just been rough. She managed to swing her hand hard, delivering a sound slap to his face. He grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm sharply and pinning it above her head. Her free hand flailed for anything she could use as a weapon, but he soon had that hand held in place with the other one.  
  
On her back with Brian now straddling her, there was no where for Abby to move. Her cries were muffled by the kettle, and soon drowned out all together as the man clamped a hand over her mouth. He still carried the scent of the takeout food she had ordered, mixed with an unmistakable smell of alcohol she hadn't been able to detect until now, his breath feeling close and hot and suffocating. Abby wished to God she hadn't poured that second glass of wine earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to block out what was about to happen.  
  
Brian's gaze remained cold and unmerciful with the first violent thrust. The closest he came to showing emotion was a satisfied look when Abby gasped sharply and squirmed beneath him. Joyce had never been much of a fighter, but he liked the struggle he got from Abby. He'd watched her since they had first moved into the building, her tiny frame carried in such a determined, confident stride. She was sexy, all right, and he knew she knew it. Women always did. It was that sarcastic, holier-than-thou attitude of hers he couldn't stand. He wanted to knock her down a peg, show her who was boss. Brian thrust harder. Now he was the one in control of the situation.  
  
"Tell... me..." Brian's voice seemed deafening in Abby's ear, his lips mingling with her wet hair, moistened by tears of pain, frustration and humiliation. She clenched her teeth together, helpless against the violation and just wanting it to be over. An eternity had passed when the last forceful movement gave way to what sounded to Abby very much like an animal growl, then Brian's full weight rested on top of her small body. Still trapped. She wanted to kill Brian Westlake. If she had the strength she would have snapped his neck right at that moment.  
  
"Tell me," he repeated, "Tell me where my wife is." His hand slid away from her mouth and Abby sucked in as much air as possible, gasping and choking.  
  
She swallowed hard and didn't think about the words leaving her mouth. "A shelter." And finally her upper body was free as the man scooted back and sat up to look her in the eye.  
  
"Where? Which shelter is it?" His tone was hopeful and out of place given the circumstances they were in. Through a blurriness of tears Abby could see the victory in his eyes.  
  
"Where, Abby."  
  
"Go to hell," she replied in a quivering whisper.  
  
He hit her hard, a firm smack across the face. She wanted to hit him back, but she was too weak. Despite the absence of his immobilizing weight, her arms felt too heavy to move. She didn't have time anyway, because Brian spat out a string of obscenities and grabbed her by the sides of her head, jerking it up from the ground with a sharpness that made her cry out. As Abby waited for the next impact she saw the faces of the few people she truly longed to tell goodbye but would never get the chance to. 


	2. If the Fates Allow

Chapter 2  
  
"If the Fates Allow"  
  
"HEY! Get the hell off of her!"  
  
Abby's eyes instantly flew open. She recognized the booming voice. It was Carter. "John! Help," she pleaded, regaining some strength as Brian, in surprise, lost track of what he was doing. He released Abby's head and tried to scramble away, but Carter caught him with ease and yanked him up by the shirt to deliver a well-deserved punch in the face.  
  
Stunned and horrified by it all, Abby scooted herself away from the scuffle and watched with wide eyes as Carter repeatedly slammed his fist into the side of Brian's head. She was afraid he might never stop, but was too shaken to say a word. Unable to watch any longer, Abby buried her face in her hands and sobbed.  
  
Moments later, there was a hand on her shoulder, and Abby pulled away, afraid to look up and see Brian. But the hand reached for her again and its gentle touch was followed by Carter's voice, soothing and concerned, "It's me, Abby. It's John." He gingerly brought her hands away from her face, looking her over with the expertise of a doctor, but the deep worry of a friend.  
  
"Oh, God..." he whispered, too shocked to say more. She looked awful.  
  
Abby threw her arms around Carter's neck, trembling violently. "John," was choked out between gasps for breath and the sobs that racked her body. She clung to him and felt herself being lifted off the floor.  
  
"It's ok, you're safe now. I've got you," Carter said, his voice still gentle like he was speaking to a child. He rushed for the door, stopping only to fumble for the blanket draped across the back of the sofa. The last thing Abby saw as Carter carried her out of her apartment was Brian sprawled face down on the floor.  
  
*************  
  
Carter kept Abby covered as best he could, using one hand to clumsily tug at the blanket that wasn't nearly warm enough in the bitterly cold weather. Especially when all the woman in his arms had on was a flimsy robe that was so rumpled and displaced it just barely managed to cover her. His expression was intense, taut as he struggled to get the door to his car open and place Abby in the passenger seat as gently as possible. He'd never seen her look so frail and it scared the hell out of him. She was mumbling something about the tea kettle when he stretched over to slowly lean her seat back and straighten the blanket across her slender shoulders.  
  
"Shhhh." Carter stroked her hair lightly before easing the door shut and racing to the other side of the car. In seconds he was speeding through red lights, his cell phone balanced between his shoulder and his ear as he listened to the County General dial tone and demanded that someone pick up the damn phone. Finally, Randi's lazy, "hello? Cook County General" greeted him through the receiver.  
  
"Randi, it's Carter. I'm on my way to the ER with Abby. She's been..." He hesitated and glanced at the traumatized woman in the seat next to him. He could see her body trembling beneath the blanket. "She's been assaulted."  
  
"Omigod," Randi sounded like she might be choking on her gum. "Is she okay??"  
  
He had no patience for the sometimes ditzy desk clerk and raised his voice into the phone, "What do you think? Just have a gurney and a room waiting, we're almost there." He abruptly snapped the phone shut.  
  
"Abby, stay awake okay?" She looked groggy, but Carter couldn't tell if she was losing consciousness. He hated not knowing to what extent she was injured. "Abby?"  
  
He took his eyes off the road long enough to check on her. She was gingerly wiping the sticky mixture of tears and blood from her face with the edge of the blue blanket. One eye was badly bruised, swollen almost completely shut, but he saw the other gaze over at him and look away quickly.  
  
"What happen- I mean what was he... who was it, Abby?" There were so many questions, Carter had trouble even forming a suitable one.  
  
She was silent so long he didn't think she was going to answer, then in a voice barely audible over the steady hum of the moving vehicle, she spoke. "M-my neighbor. Brian," she had to force the name out. "S-sent his wife to a shelter... he... he" Pain shot through her side when she took a deep breath to continue. She gasped sharply.  
  
"Never mind," Carter gently excused her from the explanation. "You can tell me later."  
  
Abby nodded, gazing out the window and trying not to focus on how much her entire body ached.  
  
*************  
  
A number of concerned faces turned to watch as Abby was wheeled into the ER on a gurney. Chuny and Susan looked as solemn as Carter, their steps moving fast to keep up with the long strides of the man who had placed Abby on the cot. It felt strange to her being the patient when she was so used to being the one treating them. How many women had she seen come in here beaten, attacked by strangers or someone they thought they could trust? They weren't all just charts and x-rays and sutures to her, but until now she had never really been able to put herself in their shoes.  
  
The dreaded poking and prodding that was inevitable began once they made it to an examination room. Having people touching her was the last thing Abby wanted right now, but she knew they were only doing their jobs. She answered their questions as best she could, looking directly at no one for longer than a second. Susan ordered one of the nurses to get a gown when she saw Abby shiver and tug self-consciously at her robe. Carter turned away while the female caregivers helped with that part. His back was still turned when Susan asked the question he had been afraid to ask, though he was sure he already knew the answer.  
  
"Were you sexually assaulted, Abby?" Susan's hand was resting gently on the woman's shoulder, but Abby's gaze had turned elsewhere. The female doctor looked at the lone male in the room. She stepped over to the man and pulled him aside, speaking softly. "I think this would be more comfortable for her if I take over from here. Why don't you go get some coffee?"  
  
Carter's first instinct was to protest, to say he wasn't leaving Abby's side. But he knew Susan was right. One thing he'd learned from experience was that women found it much easier to discuss these sorts of cases with other women. "Okay," he complied, but turned a meaningful departing glance towards Abby. "I'll be back."  
  
He pushed through the swinging doors and out into the hallway. He'd seen movies where someone would step out of the room like that and a scream of agitation or whatever emotion they were feeling would follow a second later. Now he understood how they felt. He wanted to put his fist through the wall or turn over the tray of medical supplies waiting to be organized by negligent staff members. He wanted to be back in Abby's apartment, strangling the life out of the piece of crap who hurt her.  
  
"Carter."  
  
The brooding man jumped when Weaver spoke. He turned to the red-headed woman who was leaning on her crutch and looking worried.  
  
"I just heard about Abby. How is she?"  
  
He raked his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "Not good. Pretty banged up. Fractured rib, concussion, multiple contusions..." There was more but he didn't feel like going into detail. "But nothing life threatening." Just life shattering, he silently added.  
  
Weaver sighed. She had seen too many members of her staff enter this hospital as patients, and it was never an easy thing to bear. Not for anyone. They had their fair share of disputes, but the doctors, nurses and other workers that made up the ER were a family of sorts. They cared about each other. And no matter how tough she could be on them sometimes, Weaver was one of the ones that cared the most. She had come to respect Abby a great deal these last few years.  
  
"Do you know who did this to her?"  
  
A few choice words popped into Carter's mind, but he left them out. "Her neighbor. Brian something. He's been abusing his wife and Abby finally talked her into leaving him. She checked into a shelter- when the guy found out he went berserk and took it out on Abby. I dropped by her place just in time to stop the freak from bashing her head in." He stopped abruptly and yanked at the tie around his neck. It suddenly felt like it was choking him.  
  
"She's lucky you were there," Weaver attempted some helpful words, but she could tell the doctor's pent up rage would not be soothed. "Why don't you get yourself some fresh air, John?"  
  
"Yeah." Carter waited till the short woman was gone, then he stalked off for the lounge where he wouldn't see the curious stares from Frank, Randi and some of the nurses. He flung his tie into his locker and slammed it shut, poured a cup of the liquid that could possibly be mistaken for coffee, and walked outside to stand without a jacket in the frosty Chicago air. 


	3. When the Lights Go Down

Author's Note, 12-10-02: Sorry for the delay. I really wanted to get this one up sooner but there were a few little details I decided to change, plus it's the last week of semester so I am studying my brains out for finals (sigh). I would like to spend more time on the chapters and, as Anna suggested, make them longer - right now I just don't have the time. Hopefully I can do that with some of the ones that follow (I'm currently on chapter 9, so there's lots more to come). And thanks to all of you for the great reviews! They are extremely encouraging. :)  
  
Chapter 3  
  
"When the Lights Go Down"  
  
*************  
  
"You'll need to stay the night for observation." Susan knew the skilled nurse was probably aware of her need for a day or so of hospital attention, but the doctor in Susan insisted on giving details. She looked up at the petite brunette who had barely spoken for the last half hour. Susan didn't know this woman well, though they worked side-by-side at times, but she felt a great deal of sympathy for the nurse. No one should have to go through such an ordeal. Abby's tearful account of her attack had been hard to listen to. Susan remained professional through it all and now felt emotionally drained. She couldn't imagine how much worse it must have made Abby feel.  
  
Softening a bit, Susan touched Abby's hand. "Is there anything I can get you right now? Someone you'd like me to call?"  
  
"I think I'd just like to sleep." Abby managed a slight appreciative smile.  
  
"Ok. I'll be in to check on you later."  
  
Susan dimmed the lights and stepped quietly out of the room. She wasn't surprised to see Carter camped outside the door. "She's resting now. Poor thing's exhausted," Susan filled him in as she leaned against the wall, studying Abby's chart. It was still hard to believe this had happened to one of her co-workers. "Did they catch the bastard who did this?"  
  
"No. I called the police on the way to the hospital, but by the time they got to her apartment he was gone. They were just here, wanted to question Abby. I told them it would have to wait." Carter's jaw stiffened. "Shoulda killed him when I had the chance."  
  
Susan started to say something, but thought better of it. He wasn't in the right frame of mind for a lecture on two wrongs not making a right. She kept her head down for a moment, even when he said what she could tell had been burning in his mind since he'd brought Abby in.  
  
"He raped her, didn't he." It was more of a statement than a question.  
  
Reluctantly Susan affirmed it with a nod. "Her test results should be in soon. The damage isn't too severe... physically. Psychologically, though..." She fretted her bottom lip, trying to come up with at least a tiny glimmer of optimism from the whole mess. There wasn't really a single one she could think of. "But Abby seems like a strong, stable person-"  
  
"She is," Carter stated quickly, firmly. "She's one of the strongest women I know." It took him a minute to realize he was saying that to his girlfriend. He looked at her apologetically, lifting her chin up with his hand. "So are you. Thanks for taking care of her."  
  
He had that goofy little boy grin that melted away any jealousy Susan might have felt towards the woman who really held John Carter's heart in the palm of her hand. She had been sensing their feelings for each other quite a lot lately. Neither Abby or Carter would own up to it - maybe they honestly didn't recognize the feelings yet - but Susan knew. She was a little put off at first, but her relationship with Doctor Carter hadn't developed much beyond the equivalent of a high school crush, so this was no devastating heartbreak. Being jealous and resentful towards Abby right now was totally out of the question anyway. Susan knew Carter was close friends with the woman, and if Abby ever needed a friend this was certainly the time.  
  
"Go on." Susan smiled and motioned towards the room with her head. She knew he was itching to check in on their patient.  
  
Carter leaned in to plant a tiny kiss on Susan's blonde head. She watched him disappear into Abby's room, feeling like she'd just been kissed by an uncle.  
  
*************  
  
Pensively Carter stood at Abby's bedside. She had drifted into a light sleep and he didn't want to wake her, he just wanted to be there with her and to know without a doubt that she was safe. He tried to ignore the disturbing bruises on her pretty face, her arms, her thin wrists. They stirred his anger and filled his head with the unwanted images of the struggle that must have put them there.  
  
Stifling a sigh, he dropped into the chair Susan had left in the room. Resting his head against it, he stared up at the ceiling tiles for a long time, counting them and finding different designs. After awhile his thoughts returned to Abby's apartment and his reason for being there. He had almost talked himself out of stopping by unannounced, but he really needed to get some things off his chest. However, when he heard the commotion and pushed open the battered door to Abby's apartment, the emotions and memories dredged up during his argument with his mother were the farthest thing from Carter's mind. He had wanted someone to talk to - someone that understood him and didn't judge. Abby was the first person he thought of. She had always been so easy to talk to, and more supportive than most people he knew.  
  
He was determined now more than ever to give her that same support in return.  
  
*************  
  
The pain in Abby's side made her wince. She gave up trying to find a comfortable position and sank back against the hospital pillow. It protested with a loud rustle that made her wonder if the nurses had taken to stuffing the pillowcases with newspaper. She missed her own pillows and bed, her clothes, her apartment. But she doubted they would ever hold that sense of security, the safeness of familiarity, that they had just a day or two ago. She didn't even feel safe here in the hospital, her second home, surrounded by the people she saw more than her own family.  
  
Deciding it was time for another dose of Tylenol to ward off the pounding in her head, Abby reached for the call button. She let her heavy eyelids droop shut, expecting it to be a moment before anyone responded. To her surprise, the door opened in seconds. She squinted into the darkness of the room to see which prompt nurse had answered her call. The figure remained silent and hidden in the shadows.  
  
"I just need some Tylenol..." Abby said uncertainly.  
  
No response.  
  
"H-hello?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
Abby's fingers curled around the scratchy hospital blanket. She wanted to hide underneath it like a child who was afraid the boogie man had just crept into her room to snatch her up. She couldn't make out a face, only a tall, familiar looking frame. "Carter?" she whispered with a mixture of doubt and hope.  
  
Brian Westlake stepped further into the room to reveal his identity to the frightened woman. He couldn't help but smile when her color immediately drained. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.  
  
"No," Abby whimpered. "Stay away from me!" She grabbed the call button and pushed it frantically. When the man moved closer she began to shout. "Help! Somebody help!"  
  
Suddenly, Brian lunged forward and put his hands around Abby's neck. Tears sprang to her panicked brown eyes as he began to squeeze.  
  
"Abby."  
  
She felt a hand shaking her shoulder. Heart pounding wildly, Abby looked up at the man standing over her.  
  
"It's okay," said Carter, forehead wrinkled in worry. He had just walked in to find her tossing and turning in her sleep. "You were dreaming."  
  
He sat down his coffee and reached for a cloth to dab on Abby's skin. She was drenched in sweat.  
  
"God," Abby sighed, her mind not quite over the confusion of just waking up from a very realistic nightmare. Her dry mouth suddenly began to water. "I'm gonna be sick."  
  
With the reflexes of a skilled physician, Carter grabbed an emesis basin and positioned it in front of Abby in the nick of time. There wasn't much left in her stomach besides fluids, but she heaved violently for several seconds. Carter could feel her weaken with each shudder as he rubbed her back, waiting for the convulsions to pass. Finally she fell back against her wet pillow, shaky and drained of energy.  
  
"He was here," Abby murmured. "Brian. I thought he was here..."  
  
Carter set aside the basin and returned to soaking up the beads of sweat on Abby's face. "It wasn't real, Abby, you were dreaming," he reassured her soothingly. He used his fingers to sweep back the dark tendrils of hair that were matted to her damp forehead, his hand lingering there. "I'm here. I swear to God I won't let him get anywhere near you again."  
  
Detecting the anger that laced that solemn vow, Abby looked up into his intense gaze. It was the most eye contact she had made with anyone since Carter brought her to the hospital. She hated for him to see her like this, but having him there was a comfort beyond words.  
  
"How long have I been out?"  
  
"All night," Carter replied. He had slept in the chair by her bedside, his long legs stretched in front of him and his head tilted backwards, resulting in a nasty stiff neck. It was a small price to pay. "Susan came in to wake you up a few times, though - check the concussion."  
  
"I don't remember." The last thing Abby remembered was feeling humiliated while Susan performed a pelvic exam and talked about the precautions they would take to prevent any sexually transmitted diseases or pregnancy. Abby didn't even want to consider either of those risks.  
  
"Susan thinks you're clear for discharge today."  
  
"Oh." Abby wanted desperately to be out of the hospital, but it occurred to her that she couldn't go home. She didn't want to go back to that apartment yet. Maybe not ever.  
  
"And I told her you'd be coming home with me, so that's fine," Carter added matter-of-factly.  
  
"John, I... I can find a place to stay," Abby protested, "You-"  
  
Carter shook his head, determined. "No, Abby. Be sensible. I have plenty of room and it's safe. There's no way you're going back to that apartment until they catch that shi-... him. I won't take no for an answer." He softened into a bit of a smile. "Besides I've got a satellite and all the movie channels you could hope for."  
  
So used to taking care of herself and everyone else, Abby had no desire to move in with someone else and be "taken care of," even if it was by Carter. Especially if it was by Carter. They had too complex of a relationship for that. But she didn't have the energy to argue with him at the moment, and she could tell he wasn't going to waver. She consented with a small nod of her head.  
  
"Thank you, Carter." 


	4. Black and Blue

Author's Note, 12-12-02: Well, I should be reading Hamlet and The Glass Menagerie, but I decided to put up another chapter instead. :) Enjoy! And, btw, if something I've written doesn't quite fit in with things that have happened in past ER episodes (for example, if there was talk of Carter being an awful cook.), just humor me. I missed a few episodes here and there.  
  
Chapter 4  
  
"Black and Blue"  
  
*************  
  
Clad in an extra after-work-outfit Susan had stuffed away in her locker - it was always safe to have backup clothes when you worked in a hospital, she said - and generously offered more or less in the same insistent fashion Carter had offered his home, Abby waited by the desk. It was also insisted upon that she be pushed out in a wheelchair, making the whole experience that more uncomfortable. Her body was sore as hell and her pride was pretty much smashed, but there was nothing wrong with her legs. Still, hospital procedure. She grimaced, wondering if sympathetic stares were also hospital procedure. Even Frank was looking at her with pity, an emotion he didn't seem capable of possessing. If one more person passed by to express how sorry they were for her, she was going to scream.  
  
Abby fidgeted with Susan's clothes, which were a pinch too big on her. Luckily the pants had a drawstring, and Susan did have fairly decent taste. Baggy clothes were more comfortable right now, anyway.  
  
"Ready to go?" Carter asked, returning with a bottle of Abby's pain killers and his winter coat. He wrapped the latter around Abby as she replied with an emphatic yes. When he saw the look she was giving him, he said, "I've got a coat in the car."  
  
Carter nodded a farewell to Susan and wheeled Abby out the hospital doors. The icy afternoon air blasted into her face and she put her head down, cursing under her breath. She had never liked Chicago winters. Carter rushed towards the car, already warming up and waiting by the curb, and opened the passenger side door, helping Abby from the wheelchair and into the seat which was still reclined from her trip to the ER the night before. Aided by a nudge from Carter and the force of the wind, the door slammed shut and Abby was alone in the vehicle while Carter ran the wheelchair back inside. She tried to pull the lever to raise the seat some, but the effort of twisting and reaching left her breathless, with a shooting pain in her side. She decided reclining was good too.  
  
Out of habit, Abby flipped the sun visor down to check her reflection in the mirror. She hadn't really gotten a good look at herself since the attack, and she was not prepared for the image before her. Tears glistened in her eyes as she surveyed the results of Brian's rage painted on her face in black and blue. And purple. And yellow. Damn it, she hated that color. The swelling around her eye had gone down some, though it was still red and puffy. She squinted, trying to tell if her fractured nose looked crooked or not. It didn't seem to be, thank God. According to Susan, the injuries would heal without leaving any traces of damage behind. Abby prayed it would be a fast healing.  
  
When the driver's side door opened, she quickly pushed the sun visor back into place before Carter got in the car. He blew into his hands and turned the heat up another notch, hot air pouring from the vents and flooding the car with more warmth. "Lemme know if you get too hot," he said, glancing over at her and catching a glimpse of moisture in her eyes.  
  
"You ok?" Carter immediately felt foolish. Of course she wasn't ok.  
  
"Mm-hmm." Abby nodded and changed the subject as they pulled out onto the street. "Can we stop by my place? I need to get some clothes and things."  
  
Carter hesitated. He didn't think taking her there was a good idea, but she did need her stuff and Brian couldn't possibly be stupid enough to hang around his apartment with the cops keeping an eye on it. "Sure. Just tell me what you need and I'll run in and get it."  
  
"Carter-"  
  
"Abby." He gestured out the window. "It's about 40 below. And you're supposed to rest so that rib will heal properly. I can get your things just as easily as you can. Easier."  
  
He had a point. So when they reached her apartment Abby waited in the car with the doors locked while Carter ran in to get the things she had listed. He tried to shake off the paranoia, but he couldn't help wondering where Brian was and which door led to his apartment. It was a good thing Carter didn't know because he wouldn't have objected to breaking in and trashing the place.  
  
Abby's apartment, on the other hand, was already broken into. The broken chain dangled uselessly, jingling when Carter pushed open the door and hesitated in the hall, memories of the night before playing in his head as he looked at the spot on the floor where he had discovered Brian and Abby. He wasn't sure if the bloodstains on the rug were Abby's or Brian's - truthfully, he didn't want to know. Shaking the images from his head, he moved to the closet and found the suitcase Abby said would be there. He stepped into her bedroom with a sense that he was about to invade her privacy. The guilt grew as he riffled through dresser drawers and the closet. He forced himself not to be interested in her choice of bras and panties, though the obvious preference for silky black underthings normally would have pleased him. He carefully placed the intimate apparel inside the suitcase and then filled it up with several pairs of pants and shirts. He attempted to fold them neatly, noticing how small everything was and how it all carried her familiar scent. Sweaters, pajamas, coat, socks, shoes.  
  
After a quick stop in the bathroom to grab the few remaining items Abby had requested, Carter lugged the bulging suitcase towards the front door. When he spotted and reached for Abby's purse there was something else close by that caught his eye: a glass of unfinished red wine. He paused, frowning. Before he could come to any conclusions, however, the continuous sound of a honking horn snapped him back to the present moment. Concerned about the woman who was alone in his car - though it was left running, the doors were locked, and she had his cell phone - Carter rushed out of the apartment with Abby's bags in his hands. He made it down the steps in record time and fumbled to open the door that led outside. He was greeted with a rush of cold air and the sight of Abby resting calmly in the car. Parked in front of the building across the street, an impatient taxi driver was laying on the horn and, from the looks of it, using every filthy word in the book.  
  
A cloud of visible breath formed in front of Carter as he sighed with relief. He was glad Abby didn't look in his direction until he had reached the car and regained his composure. She pressed the power locks button to let him in and he tried not to let too much cold air invade the vehicle as he placed her things on the backseat.  
  
"Well, I think I got everything," he said, sliding into the seat beside Abby. "If you need anything else I could always come back, or just buy it."  
  
"Throwing your money around already, Carter," Abby commented in jest.  
  
"If you've got it, flaunt it," he replied.  
  
They shared their first mutual hints of a smile.  
  
*************  
  
Abby trailed the heavy washcloth over her arms and chest, watching streams of water roll off her skin and drip back into the tub. The first thing she wanted to do upon arriving at Carter's place was take a steaming hot bath. Maybe it was just her imagination, but she could still feel Brian on her body. It made her nauseated.  
  
She leaned back on the damp porcelain and pressed her feet against the other end of the tub, letting her eyes wander around Carter's bathroom. It definitely belonged to a bachelor, yet it was very... tidy. In a masculine sort of way. Abby smiled to herself. Just what she would have expected from John Carter.  
  
When the bath water was lukewarm and Abby had thoroughly scrubbed every inch of her tender skin, she pulled the plug and eased her way out of the tub as the water circled noisily down the drain. She unfolded the thick blue towel Carter had given her earlier, patting herself dry and wincing when she accidentally hit a sore spot. Since she no longer had a robe - hers was in an evidence bag somewhere by now - Carter let her borrow his. Abby slipped it on and rubbed the towel through her hair as she stepped out of the bathroom.  
  
Carter was on the living room couch, perusing the newspaper. His attention immediately went to Abby as she entered, looking like she could get lost in the terrycloth material that was wrapped around her. "Feel better?" he asked.  
  
Abby nodded. "Little bit."  
  
There was an awkward silence until Carter tossed aside the paper and stood up. "Are you hungry? I'm making lasagna."  
  
"You know how to cook?" Abby cocked an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
"Don't sound so skeptical. If I wasn't a doctor I could have been a chef," he said, giving her a wink.  
  
Chef Carter. That would be something, Abby thought with amusement. She wondered if he would wear one of those big white hats.  
  
"You're in luck too. Lasagna's my specialty."  
  
"I'm really not that hungry," she said, reluctant to turn him down. Food just didn't appeal to her right now.  
  
"When's the last time you ate?"  
  
"Umm..." She hesitated, knowing full well he wasn't going to like her answer. "Yesterday afternoon."  
  
"Abby, you need to eat something."  
  
Both adults stood with their arms crossed, eyes fixed on each other like they were about to draw their weapons for a showdown.  
  
"Fine." Abby just wanted to get off the hook and get dressed. "But it better be damn good lasagna."  
  
That was good enough for Carter. He chuckled to himself as she marched towards his bedroom, kicking away the long robe that tangled itself around her feet. He was glad to see she hadn't lost any of her spunk.  
  
Moments later Abby wandered into the kitchen in sweats and socks, her damp hair combed and left to dry naturally. Carter was unaware of her presence, so she took a moment to lean against the doorway and watch him as he set the table. She'd never had a man fix her dinner before. Hopefully it would taste as delicious as it smelled. Deciding that maybe she could eat, she padded over to the table where Carter was cutting the lasagna into neat sections.  
  
"You slicing that or giving it an incision?" Abby questioned, inspecting his work.  
  
Carter reddened. He had a tendency to be a little too precise with things like this, and he hadn't realized she was standing there watching. He finished the last square and lifted it with a spatula, placing it on Abby's plate. "Hope you like Coke," he said, licking sauce from his thumb. "It's all I've got."  
  
"That's fine." Abby went to the fridge to get a couple cans of the soda pop, trying to ignore a dizzy spell that hit when she tugged too hard on the door handle. When she returned to the table, Carter was seated in the chair across from her. He thanked her for the Coke and a silence followed as they tried out the food. Abby glanced up to see an expectant look on Carter's face.  
  
"When Weaver finally fires you, at least you'll have something to fall back on," she said, letting him know he was indeed a fine cook.  
  
They shared a small laugh and some sporadic conversation followed. Carter had just finished off his second helping of lasagna - Abby was still picking at her first - when he decided to ask her something he'd been debating whether or not to mention at all. He didn't want to put her on the spot in any way, but he was concerned. "Can I ask you a question?"  
  
Abby played with the tab on her Coke can. She could tell she wasn't going to like this otherwise he would have no need to start off that way. "Um, okay?"  
  
"Have you been drinking again?"  
  
She looked up quickly. "What?"  
  
Carter tried to proceed gently. "At your apartment... I saw the wine. Maybe it's none of my business but I-"  
  
"You're right, it isn't any of your business," Abby interjected.  
  
"Abby, just hear me out. I've been through this. I know what it's like to want so badly to forget, to not feel anything- "  
  
Pushing her chair back with such abruptness it almost tipped over, Abby stood up to walk away but had to steady herself as a lightheaded feeling overwhelmed her. "You haven't been through this," she said in a whisper. "You haven't been through anything like this."  
  
"I meant a problem with addiction, Abby. God, I didn't mean..."  
  
"Well, my addiction isn't your problem either," Abby said, letting go of the table. "I'm not your problem to solve." Unable to deal with anymore, she hurried out of the room, ignoring Carter's plea for her to come back. She slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned against it, letting herself slide to the floor.  
  
"Shit." Carter slammed his hand against the table. He had totally screwed that up. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he cleared the dishes and put away the leftover lasagna before drifting back towards the bedroom. Uncertain of what sort of response he would get, he tapped lightly on the door. "Listen, Abby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sure you've... got it under control." Silence. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "It's time for my shift."  
  
Silence.  
  
"I won't work any longer than I have to."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Call me if you need me." Carter reluctantly backed away from the room, and a few minutes later Abby heard the front door close. Curling up on the floor, she thought about what Carter had said. She thought about how tired she felt. She thought about the events that had led up to all of this. And she cried. It was the first time she had been truly alone since the attack, and at last she could sob as loudly as she wanted to. 


	5. It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing

Chapter 5  
  
"It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing"  
  
*************  
  
Yawning, Carter fiddled with his key until it slid into the lock. He entered his home quietly, not wanting to disturb or startle Abby. It was dead in the ER and, by some miracle, he was able to get off early, but he doubted his guest would be awake. He still felt guilty about their quarrel, though. A master at blocking out personal problems and focusing on sick patients, he had found it nearly impossible to think about anything else besides what Abby had said to him. She wasn't his problem to solve. Maybe not, but she was his friend and he had begun to realize he cared for her more than he'd ever cared for anyone.  
  
Deciding to check in on her, Carter kicked off his shoes and tread lightly down the hall to his room. The door was still shut. Slowly turning the knob, he opened it a crack, a slant of light falling into the darkened room. Abby wasn't in bed. He immediately pushed the door open a little further to get a better look. When it resisted, he glanced down to see the woman fast asleep on the floor. Cautious not to bump her again, Carter squeezed through the limited space and knelt on one knee beside Abby. Her shallow, steady breathing assured him that she was only sleeping. He hated to disturb her, but didn't want to leave her there either.  
  
"Abby," Carter brushed back the soft hair that had fallen across her bruised cheek then nudged her shoulder a few times. He waited until her eyelids fluttered open. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You shouldn't be on the floor. Let's get you into bed."  
  
"Huh?" Abby asked, disoriented with sleep. She mumbled something unintelligible as Carter helped her sit up and hoisted her to her feet. His arms and legs were doing most of the work as she "walked" to the bed. She didn't really wake up until she felt herself being lowered onto an inviting cushiony surface.  
  
Carter draped the blanket around her shoulders and looked down upon her intently. One side of her face was red with the imprint of the carpet. When she gazed up at him, he quickly looked elsewhere. "Sorry, I woke you," he mumbled. "And..." Maybe she wouldn't even remember this later on, but he wanted to say it while he had the chance. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I shouldn't even have mentioned it. Don't be mad at me forever, okay?" With that, he turned to go.  
  
Abby caught Carter's hand before he could leave. She had done it on impulse and wasn't ready to say what was on the tip of her tongue. "Would you..."  
  
Judging from her expression he had a pretty good idea what she was going to ask. He also knew she was too... well... Abby to do it. She usually didn't ask for something, it needed to be offered. "Want me to stay?" he questioned gently.  
  
Relieved that he understood, Abby nodded. Luka had never been able to read her like that. Even with the strongest of hints, things could go right over his head. She knew her tendency to be guarded contributed to that, but she didn't feel the openness with Luka that she felt with Carter. Scooting over, Abby pulled back the covers for Carter. When he had eased in beside her, she hesitated leaning against him. Without missing a beat he stretched out an offering arm that closed around her when she accepted it. She exhaled lightly, relaxing and snuggling against the safety of his warm body.  
  
Neither spoke a word, though they both remained awake for awhile. Carter's mind wandered as he studied Abby's hand on his chest, rising and falling with each breath he took. He had dreamed about something like this. What a hell of a rotten way to get there, he thought indignantly. Clasping his own hand around Abby's smaller, colder one, he pushed those regrets aside and was eventually lulled to sleep by her rhythmic breathing.  
  
*************  
  
Several hours passed and the sun was shining blindingly through the curtains when Abby opened her eyes to the sound of soft snoring. She had barely moved from Carter's embrace the entire morning and what looked to be well into the afternoon. She'd completely lost track of how many hours of sleep she had gotten. Obviously a lot more than Carter. Comfortable and reluctant to wake him, she remained still, inhaling the scent of cologne that was soaked into his dark sweater. It was rich and musky, without being too overpowering. She liked it.  
  
The shrill ringing of the cordless phone on Carter's night table shattered the peaceful moment. Startled, Abby involuntarily jerked and Carter's eyes flew open. Groaning, he reached for the harsh substitute for an alarm clock and stopped short of throwing it across the room. Pressing the talk button, he brought the phone to his ear and grumbled, "Hello?"  
  
Abby took notice when the tone of his voice abruptly changed after a long silence.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes." Carter glanced at Abby who stared back with curious brown eyes.  
  
"Is that necessary?"  
  
"This isn't the best time..."  
  
"I see."  
  
"I'll do what I can."  
  
"Good-bye."  
  
"Who was it?" Abby questioned as he clicked the phone off.  
  
Carter heaved a weary sigh. How much more of this crap was she going to have to take?  
  
"Carter."  
  
"Police officer," he answered.  
  
"Did... did they catch him?"  
  
If only, Carter thought. "No."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"They, uhh.. want you to come in..."  
  
Abby furrowed her brow. "For what? For questioning?"  
  
"Well, that and..." Carter wasn't able to just rattle it off the way the cop on the phone had.  
  
"John!"  
  
He could see the distress in her eyes and forced out the words. "They've got a body they want you to identify. They think it could be Joyce."  
  
Abby pulled away from the crook of Carter's arm and sat up, her dark hair messy and wavier than usual. She blinked, confused, and stuttered the woman's name out, "J-joyce? But I took her to a women's shelter, she was fine. She can't be-" Abby stopped short of the word that would have finished that sentence and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "Did they say what happened? I mean if it's her, how did she-"  
  
"They didn't say," Carter broke in, putting his hand on her arm to calm her down. "Just that they found her early this morning and need a positive ID. You don't have to do it, Abby. I'm sure they can find someone else, probably at the shelter."  
  
Thoughts were racing through her head so quickly it took a moment for her to focus on what he had said. "No, I should do it... they didn't know her," Abby's words trailed each other as though she was searching for them one at a time.  
  
"You're shaking." Carter didn't get the chance to pull her close. She crawled across the bed and started to rummage through her suitcase. "I don't think you should do it," he stated, watching as she collected an outfit to change into. "You've been through enough already. You don't need to be involved with this."  
  
A day late and a dollar short, Abby thought. "Carter, it's way too late for me to not be involved."  
  
Aggravated, more at the situation than her insistence, he tossed the blankets aside and got out of bed. "Okay, I'll make breakfast."  
  
She started to say she wasn't hungry then thought better of it. She could make it look like she was eating. When the door closed behind Carter, she removed her sweat pants and sweat shirt and slipped into the clothes laid out on the bed.  
  
*************  
  
Abby tapped her shoe impatiently on the floor, not even realizing she was doing it until the woman behind the desk shot her a look. Working in a coroner's office apparently didn't agree with the lady. Then again, it probably didn't "agree" with anyone. It gave Abby the creeps. She had dealt with more than her share of dead bodies, but that was at a hospital where people were supposed to get better. Nobody who checked-in here had the chance of walking back out again.  
  
She really, really wanted a cigarette. The packet in her purse was empty, though, and there was a No Smoking sign on the wall, directly behind grouchy desk lady. Abby glared at the woman till the squinty eyes behind the glasses glared back.  
  
"C'mon, Carter," Abby whispered, glancing at the clock as though that would make him return from the bathroom sooner. It must have worked, because she heard footsteps and turned to see the man approaching. At the house she told him he didn't have to come along with her; he refused to let her go alone. She was glad. Funny how he kept showing up at the times she needed him most.  
  
"Miss Lockhart?" A sober looking man with a clipboard waited expectantly at the entrance to a long corridor.  
  
Abby willed herself to stand up, to fall into step with Carter, to ignore the pounding of her heart. It was one of those moments that felt like a dream, only she knew she couldn't wake up. The man leading her and Carter through the hall was droning on about what would happen when they viewed the body - pull back curtain, look at body, identify body. All said without emotion. Abby tuned him out. She had seen enough episodes of "Crossing Jordan" to know how this was done. And she had dreaded something like this for years, always imagining it would be her mother's body she was called in to identify.  
  
"Let me know when you're ready, ma'am."  
  
The trio had stopped in front of a glass partition blocked off by a curtain. Abby glanced up at Carter, his hand immediately resting on her shoulder. She tried to clear her throat, but it was too dry. Abby nodded at the man before she could chicken out of this.  
  
Stepping forward, the medical examiner tapped his knuckle against the glass. 


	6. Butterflies Are Free

Chapter 6  
  
"Butterflies Are Free"  
  
*************  
  
"You look great," Carter said, his reflection appearing behind Abby in the full-length mirror and making her jump.  
  
"I look like Two-Face." Abby twisted her head from side to side, scrunching up her nose at the side of her face where the bruise had faded into an oh- so-lovely shade of greenish-purple. Gurple.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Two-Face. You know?" She turned to Carter. "From that one Batman movie. Tommy Lee Jones? One half of his face is fine, the other half is all-"  
  
He was looking at her like she was nuts.  
  
Abby rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever watch movies?"  
  
"Not the ones that are meant for twelve year olds."  
  
"Batman's a classic, it transcends age."  
  
Carter grinned. "You're full of it." He tilted her chin up with his finger, studying her face. "And you are *way* hotter than Tommy Lee Jones."  
  
Despite the light, teasing mood, Abby noticed something serious in Carter's eyes. She caught herself returning the gaze and quickly tried to continue in the safety of Batman. "Well, thank God for tha..." The sentence faded as Carter lowered his face slowly towards hers. She scarcely breathed as their lips brushed lightly against each other.  
  
The urge to kiss her had hit Carter suddenly and he gave into it before he could stop himself. When she didn't object, he slipped his hand behind her head, his fingers mingling with strands of her dark brown hair. Instead of a passionate pressing together of mouths, it was a tender, caressing first kiss. And it was cut short when Abby eased away.  
  
She lowered her eyes from Carter's questioning gaze. "We should leave for work."  
  
Carter attempted to hide his disappointment. He didn't take the rejection personally. He was, after all, overstepping some boundaries. Abby had been through emotional - and physical - hell the past week and a half, the last thing she needed was him romancing her. And there was Susan.  
  
He stepped back guiltily. "Sure you're ready to go back?" he questioned, moving on and hoping Abby wouldn't avoid him because of what had just happened.  
  
Abby wasn't sure about anything anymore, but she had to return to work eventually. It would help put normalcy in her life again. The pain from her injured rib had lessened some and the other visible signs of her attack were healing, so she had announced her desire to be back in the ER.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They silently exited the room together.  
  
*************  
  
"She had to identify the body?" Randi leaned closer to Malik and Frank, her heavily made-up eyes wide as saucers.  
  
"Yep," Malik confirmed with a nod. He was relating bits and pieces of a conversation he had overheard between Dr. Carter and Dr. Lewis.  
  
"God, poor Abby."  
  
Frank added his two cents, "She'll get over it."  
  
The nurse and the desk clerk shot disgusted looks at the older man. He shrugged them off and urged on the story, "So did the husband do it or what?"  
  
"That's what they think. The wife left the shelter to go back to him, next thing she winds up dead. Kind of a no-brainer. But they can't find the guy. No one's seen him since he attacked Abby," Malik concluded.  
  
"He'll show up. Probably try to finish what he started with Abby," Frank said matter-of-factly.  
  
Randi glared at him. "Doesn't Satan have some work for you to do?"  
  
"I'm just speaking from experience. When I was on the force I saw this kind of stuff all the time. That guy crossed the line; he has nothing to lose now. And if he blames Abby for what happened... well..."  
  
The three gossipers pretended to be busy when the topic of their conversation turned the corner. They weren't fooling Abby. She could tell they had been talking about her. It wasn't the first time today she had interrupted a discussion about her "situation". The point of coming back to work was to get past what had happened, but so far that plan had failed.  
  
"Malik, Corday needs you in curtain 1," Abby announced, then spun on her heel and headed in the direction she had just came. Taking an unexpected turn, she found herself wandering into the empty ladies' room. She needed to sit, preferably someplace private, so she slipped into a stall, locked the door and dropped down on the toilet, not caring that her clothes touched the makeshift seat. Tears she'd been holding back all day finally surfaced, stinging her eyes. She let them fall freely, coursing down her cheeks in sporadic patterns and dripping into her lap. She hadn't counted on it being so hard to get back into the swing of things. She hadn't counted on seeing Joyce in each of the female patients that were brought in, or worrying that every man she was sent to examine might be Brian.  
  
Even the floor tiles in the bathroom brought back bad memories as Abby stared down at them, blinking the moisture from her eyes. It reminded her of the floor at the morgue. That cold, unfeeling place that practically breathed death. She could picture Joyce's body lying motionless on a slab, partially covered by a sheet, the rest of her covered with bruises. It had been difficult to recognize the woman at first, other than the short red hair. Abby had confirmed it was her neighbor when she saw the butterfly tattoo on the corpse's arm. Days before that, when Joyce was hiding out at Abby's apartment, they had somehow began comparing tattoos. Abby didn't remember how, but she did remember the butterfly. Joyce was proud of it.  
  
Sniffling, Abby pulled some toilet paper from the roll and blew her nose. She had cried like an idiot in front of Carter on the way home that day, too, pouring out the guilt she felt for Joyce's murder. He assured Abby that it wasn't her fault. The cops were told Joyce had left the shelter on her own freewill. It had nothing to do with the fact Abby gave Brian a small clue as to where Joyce could be found. Abby tried to believe that. So why, nearly two weeks later, did she still have to choke back a sob whenever she thought about it? Why did she feel responsible, and why did she feel such a strong connection to a woman she barely knew? Maybe it was because her life had been held in the palms of Brian's hands: the same hands that took Joyce's life. The bruises at Joyce's neck indicating she had been choked to death were the same bruises on Abby's wrists and shoulders, put there by the same sadistic man. She was connected to Joyce whether she wanted to be or not. And Abby couldn't help but wonder why she had survived and Joyce didn't. It kept her awake at night and ate away at her conscience every chance it got.  
  
Abby was wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks when the bathroom door squeaked open. She listened to the footsteps as they crossed the floor and seemed to hesitate outside her stall. When they retreated to the next one, Abby slipped out the door of the stall and paused in front of the mirror to collect herself. Her eyes were puffy, cheeks a little red from crying. Bending over the sink, she splashed water on her face and grabbed a couple paper towels to pat it dry. A scream caught in her throat when she noticed the reflection of the man standing behind her. 


	7. Saints and Angels

Chapter 7  
  
"Saints and Angels"  
  
*************  
  
"Don't be afraid, child. I bring you good tidings of great joy." The bum grinned toothlessly, his rotten breath enough to make anyone gag. His hair was greasy and unkempt, sprouting from underneath his ratty old snowcap like a wild bush. The dirt caked on his fingernails was probably the same dirt that was there months ago.  
  
Abby shrunk away, bumping into the sink as he reached out his filthy hand and touched her shoulder. "Hey! Get your hands off me," she ordered in an unsteady voice.  
  
"The Lord knows your suffering," the man said, apparently unaware of the distress he was causing. "He will send angels to watch over thee."  
  
Shrugging the hand from her shoulder, Abby pushed past the man and hurried out of the bathroom as he began reciting Psalm 23. Weaver was standing in the hallway. "Abby? What's wrong?" she asked, noticing how pale and rushed the nurse seemed.  
  
"There's a... a bum in there," Abby motioned towards the ladies' room, barely looking back or slowing down. "Someone should get him out."  
  
Her pulse was still racing furiously when Randi handed her a chart and said, "Abdominal pain in curtain five." Abby grabbed the clipboard and headed in that direction before Randi, or anyone else, could ask if she was all right.  
  
*************  
  
Abdominal pain in curtain five turned out to be a small boy with large brown eyes and dark red hair that bounced around his head in tight little corkscrew curls. It was the first child Abby had seen in days and it filled her with relief. She managed a smile, forcing away any remaining jittery feelings. "Hi," she greeted him.  
  
The boy stared at her apprehensively. "Hi. Are you a doctor?"  
  
"No, I'm a nurse. My name's Abby."  
  
"I'm Jacob." He looked her over for a minute then added, "But you can call me Jake."  
  
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Jake." Abby reached out to shake his hand, issuing a smile from the boy. He had deep dimples in both cheeks. "What seems to be the problem?"  
  
"I've got a fever and it hurts when I do this." Jake poked a stubby finger in his side and winced sharply.  
  
Abby stifled a laugh. "Can I give you a tip, Jake?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Don't do that."  
  
The boy's ears turned pink and he nodded again.  
  
"Mind if I take a look?" Abby pointed to his shirt. With no hesitation, he lifted it up and watched as she gently inspected the area. "Is your mom or dad around?" she questioned, wondering why the boy was by himself.  
  
"Nope," Jake shook his head. "They're dead."  
  
The abruptness of the statement startled Abby, but she didn't let it show. Jake continued as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
"I live with my sister. Her name's Tricia. She's a lot older than me," he explained. "She was supposed to go on a date tonight, so she's mad she had to bring me here. She left to get some coffee and get me out of her hair."  
  
Abby's expression was sympathetic as she listened to the story. His sister sounded... lovely. Abby switched the subject while she examined the boy. "How old are you?"  
  
"Ten. It was my birthday last week," Jake answered proudly. "Wanna see what I got?"  
  
"Sure." Abby held up a thermometer. "Just let me take your temperature first, okay?"  
  
The boy agreed, fidgeting impatiently as he waited for the thermometer to beep. When Abby removed it from his ear, he leaned forward and pulled a red Spider-man lunchbox from behind the pillow he had been resting on. Abby hadn't even noticed it back there.  
  
"My sister thinks it's dumb that I carry this everywhere. I don't let her touch it," he explained, resting the box in his lap and carefully undoing the latch. "I don't see what's so dumb about it. It's my important stuff. She carries a purse around with the stuff she thinks is important in it."  
  
Nice observation, Abby thought. She waited with a smile as he rummaged around the box which was full of typical boy "stuff."  
  
"This is full of my stone collection," Jake said, removing the thermos with a grunt and placing it on the hospital bed. "But that's not my present." He placed a bag of marbles beside the thermos. "Those're my marbles. And here's my army guys."  
  
There was quite a pile building up on the bed by the time Jake came to his birthday gift. Abby's eyes widened when he pulled out a large Swiss Army knife.  
  
"Here it is." He was beaming as he displayed it for her. "It belonged to my grandpa and he gave it to my dad. He said he'd give it to me someday, but he died 'fore he could. My sister didn't think I was old enough to have it yet, but she didn't have money to buy me something so she just gave me this. She said she'll take it away if I cut anything up with it. Wanna see the blade?? It's really sharp."  
  
"Umm, that's ok," Abby held out her hand to stop him as he pried at the niche that opened the blade. "You better keep it closed. Knives are kind of a no-no in this ER."  
  
"Oh ok." Jake shrugged and tucked the knife back into his lunchbox. "Hey, wanna see a picture of my parents?"  
  
Abby nodded. The little boy had become a much needed distraction. "You bet." She leaned closer, studying the wrinkled photograph Jake was holding.  
  
"That's my dad, that's my mom, that's Tricia, and that's me," he said, pointing to each person. "I think I was six in this."  
  
"And now you're all grown up," Abby commented with a smile, tousling the boy's hair. She couldn't help it, he was just too cute.  
  
"Yeah, but Tricia doesn't think so. She keeps telling me to grow up faster." Jake placed the picture in his box and filled it up with the rest of his treasures. He closed it and looked up at Abby. "Do you have any kids?"  
  
A flicker of sadness passed over Abby's features. She scribbled something on his chart and shook her head, "No, no kids."  
  
"Oh, you should have some. I bet you'd be a good mom." Jake flashed a charming, almost hopeful smile. Abby worried when he suddenly became gravely serious and said, "I've got a question."  
  
Not long ago she had taken care of Douglas Leeman, the frightened little boy whose mother died unexpectedly, shattering his world. Abby's heart still ached when she remembered the way he begged to stay with her and cried her name as a social worker carried him out of the ER. She couldn't go through that again right now.  
  
"What's that?" she asked, cautiously.  
  
"What happened to you?" He pointed to her face. "Did you get into fight?"  
  
Caught off guard, Abby fumbled for an answer. His wasn't the only curious gaze she had received from patients today, but he was the first to be brave enough to make an inquiry. "S-something like that," she replied vaguely.  
  
"I don't like whoever hit you," Jake said bluntly. "You're not supposed to hit girls. It's really bad."  
  
This boy was going to turn out just fine. Abby patted his leg affectionately. "We need more men like you, Jake."  
  
*************  
  
A couple of hours and several tests later, Abby's suspicions about Jake's illness were confirmed. She requested being the one to tell the boy while Dr. Carter broke the news to Tricia, who had periodically wondered off since arriving in the ER and was now flirting with Yosh in Chairs. Abby had barely left Jake's side the whole time; talking with him and holding his hand when Carter had drawn blood.  
  
"Well, buddy, I've got some bad news," she began, resting against the edge of Jake's bed.  
  
For the first time Jake's brown eyes were truly fearful. "Am I gonna die?"  
  
Abby shook her head firmly, "No. Definitely not. It's not even something you need to worry about. You're just going to have to stay in the hospital for awhile longer."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You have appendicitis. Do you know what that is?"  
  
Jake started to shake his head yes, but then changed it to no.  
  
"Well, everybody's got something inside them called an appendix. It's this little pouch by your intestines, sorta looks like a worm. It doesn't really do anything, but sometimes when it gets sick like yours is, it has to be removed so it won't make you sicker."  
  
"Gross. You're gonna take my guts out?" Jake was looking at his stomach. He finally smiled. "That's cool."  
  
Abby laughed. "You might not think so when you have to stay in bed for a few days," she teased. "And Dr. Carter's scheduled you for surgery right away, so they're going to be moving you into a different part of the hospital."  
  
"Are you coming with me?"  
  
Here we go. Abby answered reluctantly, "I can't, Jake. I don't work in that part of the hospital, and I have some other patients here in the ER who need me to look after them."  
  
"Oh." Jake's cheerful face fell. "But I don't want a different nurse, Abby. I like you. Can't I just stay here?" He began to tear up and reached for her hand.  
  
"You're not allowed to, sweetie. I'm sorry." Abby struggled to keep her own emotions in check. "But I'll come visit you when you get out of surgery. How's that?"  
  
Jake thought it over, obviously not satisfied but apparently willing to take what he could get. "Yeah, okay," he agreed, wiping away a fat tear that had escaped onto his freckled cheek. "But you have to do me a favor."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Keep my lunchbox for me?" He pleaded with his eyes, like a pitiful puppy dog. "I don't want Tricia to take care of it, she might lose it on purpose. You can keep it for me and give it back to me later, can't you? Please?"  
  
Only someone without a heart could have refused. "I will," she assured him.  
  
"Promise you'll keep it with you."  
  
"I promise." She traced an X over her heart with her finger, "Cross my heart."  
  
Jake handed over the old, banged up box that contained his most prized possessions. It was heavier than Abby expected, probably due to the thermos of rocks, and she held the handle with both hands. Their privacy ended when Jake's sister and Carter stepped in and prepared to wheel Jake to the OR. Stepping out of the way, Abby gave Jake an encouraging smile.  
  
"Bye, Abby. Remember, you promised." Jake waved as the bed was rolled away. He was still waving when the elevator door closed.  
  
Abby stood there for a minute, the boy's lunchbox resting against her knees.  
  
"Abby, got an OD coming in."  
  
With a weary sigh, she hurried towards the trauma room where Susan Lewis beckoned.  
  
*************  
  
"Nice shiner."  
  
Abby hooked the IV bag in place and glanced at the young girl who was stirring for the first time since having a gastric lavage to rid her system of the drugs from an attempted overdose. They had almost lost her. She couldn't be more than fifteen.  
  
"Who'd you have to piss off to get that?"  
  
Ignoring the question, Abby fixed the oxygen tubes the girl had just pulled out of her nose. "You have to leave those in."  
  
"Screw you."  
  
"You're not my type."  
  
The girl glared at Abby with disgust. "Could I possibly get a nurse who isn't a bitch?"  
  
Ah, the joy of nasty patients. Abby missed Jake already. "Sorry, no. We all had to take a special course. Bitch 101. Perhaps you've attended?"  
  
"Tell your boyfriend he needs to hit you a little harder next time. Maybe that'll teach you to shut your mouth," the girl spat.  
  
It was tempting to continue exchanging insults with the impossible teenager, but Abby held her tongue and checked the monitors. "Mind telling me why you tried to kill yourself, Angel?"  
  
"How the hell do you know my name?" Angel demanded.  
  
"Your mother gave it to us."  
  
"My mom's here?"  
  
Abby noticed the girl sounded surprised. "She's the one who brought you in. She's very worried about you..."  
  
"Yeah right," Angel scoffed. She scratched at the IV in her arm and drifted into a pensive silence.  
  
"You're father's here, too. He-"  
  
"He is *not* my father!" Angel was furious again, sitting up in bed. "And I don't want him here! Keep that asshole away from me!"  
  
Abby put her hand on the girl's shoulder to urge her back against the pillow. Angel flung it aside. "Just get out! I don't want you touching me. I'm sick of people touching me!"  
  
The problem was gradually becoming clear to Abby. "Look, you can keep treating me like crap if you want... OR you could tell me what's really bothering you." She looked imploringly at the blond haired girl. "Maybe I can help you?"  
  
"You really wanna help me?"  
  
"Yes," Abby replied earnestly.  
  
A wry smile formed on the girl's pallid lips. "Pull the plug." 


	8. Now You See Me, Now You Don't

Author's Note, 12-13-02: My computer is getting wacky on me and wouldn't let me open some files so I decided to go ahead and post the chapters I have finished just incase it decides it doesn't want to let me open them later on (Stupid computer!). I've worked some on chapter 9, but it's not finished yet. But only two more days of school so I should be able to work on it soon. Yay!  
  
Chapter 8  
  
"Now You See Me, Now You Don't"  
  
*************  
  
Abby leaned back in the stiff, uncomfortable chair, stretching her legs out underneath the table as she sipped at her coffee. The doctor's lounge was dark, other than the flickering of light put out by the poor excuse for a television. Abby's eyes were fixated on the screen, but her mind was in a whole other place. Her shift had ended a little while ago, now she was just waiting around for Carter to finish up so they could ride home together. She had thought about going to visit Jake, but it was late and he would most likely be sleeping. Tomorrow would be better.  
  
Thinking about the little boy made Abby smile. It had been a long, hectic, stressful first day back to work, and he had definitely been the highlight of that day. She looked down at the Spider-man lunchbox that was on the table beside her. True to her word, she had kept it close the entire day, despite some strange looks from passersby. Setting her coffee aside, Abby popped open the lid to have another look at the contents. Jake surely wouldn't mind.  
  
She arranged each tiny army man on the table and decided not to even chance opening the thermos. The family picture held her attention for quite awhile, causing her thoughts to take a slightly darker turn. Life didn't make sense. Here was this perfectly happy family that never could have dreamed they would be ripped apart not long after the photograph was taken. Jake, that sweet boy with a beautiful smile, didn't deserve to be orphaned like that.  
  
Angel didn't deserve to be molested by her mother's boyfriend.  
  
Abby didn't deserve to have her life turned upside down for trying to help out someone in need.  
  
She thought back to her run-in with the bum who wandered into the ladies' room. Angels to watch over thee. Where were those angels when Jake, Angel and Abby needed them most?  
  
Dropping the picture into Jake's box, Abby's fingers closed around a cool, heavy object. She pulled the knife out and balanced it in the palm of her hand for a moment before slowly removing the blade that Jake hadn't gotten to show her earlier. It was sharp, just like he had said, and it gleamed, even in the dim lighting.  
  
I'd rather be dead than see his face again.  
  
That was what Angel had finally confessed to Abby about her suicide attempt. The girl actually wanted to end her life rather than live one more day in a world with her mother's boyfriend in it. That was crazy, wasn't it?  
  
Abby looked at the knife in her hand.  
  
Wasn't it?  
  
Good Lord, she was giving herself the creeps. She put the knife down and decided to clear her head with a walk through the ER.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
The minute she stepped into the hall, Abby was roped into checking on a LGFD Conni was too busy to handle. Didn't people realize they were supposed to be home in their warm beds, not hanging around an emergency room with what would most likely be ruled out as imaginary symptoms? It was as pointless as hanging around an emergency room so long you got stuck with another patient.  
  
She yawned before pulling back the curtain. "Ok, what seems to be the prob- ..."  
  
What the hell?  
  
*************  
  
"Ha ha, very funny, Conni." Abby's tone was sarcastic as she leaned her elbows on the front desk and followed the other nurse with a playfully scolding gaze as she passed by.  
  
Conni stepped over to the dry board and erased a name before acknowledging the remark. "What's funny?" she asked distractedly.  
  
"You know. Your invisible patient."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Who put you up to it?" Abby quizzed. "Carter, right?"  
  
"Abby," Conni sounded exasperated, "I have no idea what you're talking about. And even if I did, I am way too busy to be letting anyone put me up to anything."  
  
"So there really was a patient?"  
  
"There's always a patient," Conni laughed. "It was a young guy. He wasn't there?"  
  
Abby shook her head. "I couldn't find him anywhere."  
  
"Maybe he decided to go home where he belongs." The nurse shook her head, neatly woven braids swaying to and fro. "He certainly didn't look like he belonged in the emergency room. I hate it when they're just wasting our time."  
  
"What's the matter?" Carter was sauntering up behind the women. He lifted his stethoscope over his head and set it on the counter, an end-of-shift habit that still made him feel very important and "doctorish" after all these years. He stood beside Abby, offering a smile.  
  
"Abby's patient pulled a vanishing act," Conni explained, backing away from the younger pair and waving a file in farewell. "Now it's my turn."  
  
"Guess you lucked out," Carter said, looking down at the woman who had been his roommate and occasional sleeping buddy for the past several days. He was determined they would become more than that, especially after today. A discussion with Susan had revealed her feelings that the relationship she and Carter shared was best left as a friendship. She knew he was in love with Abby, and now that they pretty much lived together Susan felt it was time to move on. She had been very candid and good-natured about it, like she was with most things. Carter was glad there were no hard feelings left between them. He had a lot of respect and admiration for Susan Lewis.  
  
"My shift is over, so we can get going now."  
  
"Bless you," Abby sighed, briefly resting her head against his arm. Memories of their kiss made her straighten just as quickly. She wasn't sure how she felt about their growing displays of affection. Of course it was what she wanted- she had wanted Carter for a long time. But it wasn't the best timing for a new relationship to begin. She would be bringing a lot of emotional baggage along with her, more so than ever before. Not to mention the girlfriend Carter would be bringing with him. Damn.  
  
"Doc Magoo's for a late supper?"  
  
Abby made a face. "Or a last supper."  
  
"It's close and there's coffee," he persuaded. "Anyway, I have something I want to talk to you about."  
  
Uh-oh. "Okay..." She drew the word out, her brown eyes curious but getting no answers at the moment. A discharged patient had wandered up to thank Carter for treating her, so Abby picked up his stethoscope and headed for the lounge to get their coats. And Jake's treasures, of course.  
  
Someone had turned the television up much louder than it had been when she left the room. Apparently a member of the medical staff was going deaf, Abby thought as she crossed over to the lockers and entered Carter's combination first. Ownership of a locker changed so frequently in the ER that she practically had the combination of every one in the place memorized. Not that she would ever abuse that knowledge, of course.  
  
She put the stethoscope on the top shelf and draped Carter's coat over her arm before shutting the locker and moving down a few to her own, twisting in the numbers until it opened. Her coat immediately fell off its hook and dropped at her feet. Stupid thing. She reached for it but yanked her hand away when someone else's hand got to it first. Muttering a surprised curse, Abby took such an abrupt step backwards that she almost fell.  
  
"Careful," Brian warned, standing up to his full height, Abby's coat in his grasp. He dusted it off and offered it to the woman whose expression couldn't have been more terror stricken if she was staring at the devil himself. 


	9. Breathe

Author's Note, 12-17-02: Are ya still with me? Hope I didn't keep you in too much suspense (well, ok, yes I do :). Lemme know what you think. Working on Chapter 10 now.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
"Breathe"  
  
*************  
  
Help. Abby knew she should say it, yell it, scream it- anything besides just standing there in a frozen silence. But her voice wouldn't cooperate. Her feet wouldn't move. The nightmare that had plagued her for nights on end since the attack was now standing merely inches in front of her, taller and more intimidating than she remembered. She hugged Carter's coat tightly like a protective shield.  
  
"Earth to Abby..." Brian waved her jacket around then dropped his arm heavily to his side when she didn't move a muscle. "Fine." He tossed the garment into Abby's open locker, pushing shut the door that was the only divider between him and the petite woman.  
  
"Did anyone ever tell you you're not very friendly?"  
  
Abby didn't even bother trying to make sense of what he was saying. She was working up the courage to breathe.  
  
He sighed and moved on. "You know, security around here isn't very tight. Looks like anyone could get in if they play sick."  
  
Through the jumble of thoughts swirling around in her head, Abby realized Brian was probably Conni's mystery patient. She wondered how long he had been here, watching her, hovering in the shadows and waiting to pounce. It sent chills up her spine.  
  
"Not gonna talk to me, huh?" Brian continued in a taunting voice, taking a step towards her. He had her path to the exit blocked.  
  
Another step closer was enough to snap Abby from her frightened trance. She widened the distance between them, backing up till her bottom bumped into the edge of the table. She put her hand on the wooden surface to steady herself, legs as unstable as Jell-O beneath her. Some of Jake's army men, still lined up for battle, tumbled to the floor.  
  
"Too bad. I actually started to miss that smart mouth of yours." His roving eyes traveled across her figure as he reached out to touch her. "And that great little-"  
  
Abby shoved his hand away.  
  
"Oh, now we're getting somewhere!" Amused, Brian reached for her again, his hand pressing right against her unbearably sore rib. Whether it was on purpose or not, he had just managed to send pain shooting through every inch of her body. If he noticed, it didn't show. "That's what I like about you, Abby. You were good. Feisty. Joyce could get so... boring."  
  
Breathless from the aching in her side, Abby's sentence was broken into fragments when she finally spoke. "Is... th-that why... you... killed her?" She almost dropped to her knees with relief when he removed his hand from the injured spot. An eerie silence followed and she chanced looking him in the eye.  
  
"That wasn't supposed to happen," Brian said emotionless at first. His anger mounted as he continued. "I was just trying to talk to her. She wouldn't listen. She left that shelter to come back to ME, but all she would talk about was that rubbish YOU put into her head about getting us 'help.' Going on and on about Abby said this and Abby said that..."  
  
While the man fumed, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, Abby closed her trembling fingers around the knife that lay amongst Jake's trinkets that she had spread out a little while ago. Her hand had stumbled upon the sharp weapon moments before when she grabbed the table for support, but Brian had been too focused for her to make a move for it. His distracted tantrum gave her the opening she needed, and she took it, concealing the blade just behind Carter's coat. It was a knife suited for a hunter or a fisherman. The thick handle felt odd and frightening in her clammy hand. She had to force herself not to drop it. Brian had suddenly stopped speaking and glared at her like he knew exactly what she was hiding. Her heart pounded furiously.  
  
"...I had to make her shut up, Abby. But it was an accident. I didn't mean to kill her," Brian insisted, fists clenched at his sides. "I loved my wife."  
  
Abby fixed a hateful glare on the man, the knife giving her a bit more bravery than she actually possessed right then. "Bullshit," she snapped. "You don't know how to love anybody. You were just pissed off that for once she was smart enough to leave you."  
  
"She left because of you!" Brian pointed an accusing finger in Abby's face, coming too close for comfort. She flinched, clutching the knife tightly.  
  
"She came running back as soon as she didn't have you there to fill her head with a bunch of lies. I can't believe she was actually worried about you! Said you weren't answering her calls and we should check on you," Brian scoffed. His tone lightened as he shrugged and added, "I said I hoped you were dead."  
  
Tears brimmed in Abby's brown eyes, threatening to spill until she blinked them away. She did not want to cry in front of him and appease whatever sick pleasure he derived from it. The guilt over not being there for Joyce nagged at her, though, confirming that she had failed. "What are you doing here, Brian?" she ventured, fearing she already knew the answer. "You got what you wanted. You won. Please... just leave me alone."  
  
The man didn't speak, his gaze bore hard into hers. For a fleeting moment Abby thought he was actually going to step out of her way. Or maybe she only wished for it.  
  
"I can't do that." Brian sounded almost apologetic as he grazed the backs of his fingers across her cheek, his hand drifting further down till the pads of his fingers traced a path along her smooth throat. "You should have just stayed out of it, Abby."  
  
His touch made her shudder. She edged sideways, ready to break free and run for the door, an eerily similar escape as the one that had failed in her apartment. The knife would have been so easy to use, but it wasn't in her to stab someone, even if it was Brian. She saved lives, she didn't take them.  
  
Brian's powerful hand tightened around her neck, preventing any further movement. Abby gagged and fought to pull away, but it was like a Chinese finger trap: the more you tugged the tighter it closed around you. Her lungs begged for oxygen, her mind screamed for her to do something. Anything. How ironic that Carter, who barely ever set foot in her apartment building, should be there right at the moment she needed saving, yet here in the hospital where he and a handful of coworkers were right outside the door, no one was coming to the rescue. No Carter to wake her from the nightmare this time. She was on the verge of losing consciousness when his coat slipped from her grasp. Suddenly Brian jolted, his features twisted in surprise as he unleashed Abby, the pale skin on her neck now red as fire and practically branded with his fingerprints. The horror in his eyes was mirrored in hers as she felt his warm blood seeping between her fingers, making the knife handle slippery. She let go as he staggered back a few steps and looked down at the half of the object that protruded from his stomach. It took a while for it to register in both their minds that she had stabbed him.  
  
"Abby?" Brian looked bewildered, his complexion ashen, as the dark spot on his clothes rapidly began to spread. He pressed his hands around the wound like it might push the blood back in.  
  
Woozy and panting for air, Abby swayed precariously with her first step forward. She knew she needed to run before Brian could regain any composure, and she came close to getting past him untouched until he caught her around the waist and nearly brought her crashing down with him as he fell to his knees. She struggled out of his grasp, slamming into the counter but staying on her feet. He was trying to get up when the room filled with a blinding light that made them both squint. Abby's attention snapped towards the doorway where Kerry, ready to check out and go home, stood gaping like an open-mouthed statue. The bloody scene triggered flashbacks of a certain chilling Valentine's Day discovery the red-head had made, ironically enough, two years ago this month.  
  
"Somebody call security!" Weaver barked the order into the hall, causing a stir among the medical staff and patients who waited in chairs. She propelled herself forward with her cane, going straight to Abby. The man, still on one knee and grunting with his effort to stand, was obviously injured, but Kerry couldn't tell if the nurse was or not. "Are you hurt?" she asked, looking for a source of the blood that was on Abby's hands and clothes. When the woman shook her head, Kerry hurriedly guided her away from the hand that swiped at them as they moved around Brian. They nearly collided with Carter as he burst through the lounge door.  
  
"Get her out of here," Kerry demanded, ushering Abby into the stunned man's care. His eyes darted over her shoulder to the man that suddenly hollered a threatening curse in Abby's direction.  
  
Carter recognized Brian, a face he was sure would forever be imprinted in his memory, right next to the image of Paul Sobricki. He pushed Abby behind him protectively, a fierceness hardening his usually gentle features. Kerry stood in his way and didn't give him a chance to act on whatever rash impulse might be going through his brain right then.  
  
"Carter. Go!"  
  
Reluctantly obeying, Carter turned and led Abby into the hall and through the crowd of onlookers. Weaver waved Jerry over to stand watch at the door and called for a gurney.  
  
"What happened? Did he hurt you?" Carter's concern was wrapped up in Abby now. She looked dazed and didn't answer at first. The blood made him anxious.  
  
"He tried," she finally responded in a hushed voice. Her bottom lip trembled as she turned her face up to him. "I stabbed him, John. I- I didn't want to... but I couldn't breathe." The memory of how easily the blade dug into Brian's skin made Abby shudder and she inadvertently burst into tears, burying her face against Carter's chest as two of the security guards Weaver had requested rushed by and pushed their way into the crowd around the lounge. The doctor put his hand against the back of her head, not wanting her to turn and see that an immobile Brian was being wheeled down the opposite side of the hall on a gurney. He wanted to yell for them to just let the son of a bitch die; for Abby's sake he didn't. She was still crying into his white doctor's coat when the sound of police sirens, their red and blue lights flashing wildly as they pulled up outside the ER's automatic doors, filled the air. 


	10. Just to See You Smile

Author's Note, 12-20-02: I think I'm gonna wrap this up with chapter 11.  
  
Chapter 10  
  
"Just to See You Smile"  
  
*************  
  
"You really wanna do this right now? It can wait." Carter glanced at the woman in the passenger seat. He noticed she had an awfully tight hold on the red box in her lap.  
  
Abby shook her head. "No, it can't. I made a promise."  
  
They were parked outside Jake Miller's house, engine idling while they both waited for the other to make the first move. The past three days had gone by in a haze of police interrogations, phone calls and what Abby saw by now as an elusive pursuit of returning to normal life. Consequently, she had forgotten about visiting Jake and returning his prized possessions until Tricia Miller left a message at the ER requesting her brother's things. An officer had collected the items while the lounge was still roped off by yellow crime scene tape, and Abby was thankful that everything was accounted for. Everything except Jake's father's knife. Even if she had it, it would have been too morbid to return. But she didn't look forward to breaking the news to the boy and letting down yet another person she had only been trying to help.  
  
"You can wait out here if you want," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. It seemed they were practically inseparable lately and Abby was beginning to worry that she had become too dependent on Carter. Life with Maggie had made her wary of placing too many expectations on any one person always being there when you needed them. It just didn't work that way. Still, Carter had a nice way of making her forget all that.  
  
"I'll come."  
  
"Or you can come." She smiled in spite of herself and got out of the car. Carter followed, toting a special gift they had picked up for Jake earlier that day. It probably wouldn't make up for the loss of his birthday present, but it made Abby feel better and it had been fun to pick out.  
  
Tricia answered the door right away. "Thank God you're here," she said, stepping aside for them to enter and none too discreetly checking out the view of Carter from behind. "Jake's been whining for you to show up all friggin' day. You really didn't have to go to all the trouble of getting him something else, I explained about the knife. Well, sorta." The words were directed at Abby, but Tricia never took her eyes off the tall doctor.  
  
Abby could swear she saw him turn red. Oh brother.  
  
"Is she here, Tricia??" Jake's hollering interrupted the awkward moment. Tricia directed Abby down the hall to the little boy's bedroom and practically seized Carter before he could follow, using the excuse that Jake and Abby could talk alone for a minute without the distraction of the surprise Carter was bearing.  
  
"Knock, knock," Abby said, peeking around the doorway to Jake's room. He was decked out in his favorite Star Wars pajamas, the ones that had holes in the knees from too much wear, and propped up in bed with a single pillow and a blanket practically buried under a plethora of action figures, comic books and what looked to be Popsicle sticks. Someone was living it up while they recuperated.  
  
"Abby!" Jake's face instantly brightened and he motioned for her to enter. "It took you forever to get here. You didn't visit me in the hospital like you were supposed to. Did you bring my stuff?" He could see the Spider-man box she was holding, but was too impatient to beat around the bush about getting it back. He cleared a place for her to sit on the bed, spilling toys all over the floor.  
  
"I'm sorry, Jake," Abby began with a sincere apology. She rested on the edge of his bouncy mattress and handed him his lunchbox. "I wanted to come visit you, but something came up and I couldn't make it."  
  
"Yeah, Tricia told me. She wouldn't say what happened at first. I begged until she gave in."  
  
"She told you what happened?"  
  
Jake detected the disapproval in her tone. "Uh-huh. I'm not a baby. She said somebody tried to hurt you and you had to use my knife for protection. I'm glad you used it. I mean, I wish I could have it back, but it's not so bad. Tricia says if I save up my allowance I can get one of those smaller knives that have all the gadgets and things. I like those better."  
  
Well. That was much easier than Abby had expected. She didn't appreciate Tricia giving a ten-year-old some of the details discussed during their earlier conversation on the phone; however, it was a relief to not face a bombardment of questions from the boy about where his knife had gone to.  
  
"Did he die?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The guy. The bad one who tried to hurt you," Jake clarified. "Did you kill him?"  
  
Abby shifted uneasily, glad she had worn a turtleneck sweater that concealed the fading bruises circling her neck like a choker. The other older bruises were practically unnoticeable by now. Her side still smarted occasionally. "Um, no. I didn't kill him," she replied. The news that Brian had made it through a surgery to repair his lacerated liver had filled Abby with mixed emotions. Part of her wanted him to live, to free her from carrying the burden of murder atop the rest of her load, but another part, the part of her that seemed to die a little bit every day since Brian Westlake had forced his way into her life - and body - with his consuming rage, wished he had died on the operating table. Most of the staff back at County General had been hoping for the latter as well.  
  
"Is he going to jail soon then?"  
  
The cops had assured Abby that there was enough evidence to convict Brian, not only for her rape and attempted murder, but also the murder of Joyce. There were no guarantees to the swiftness of a trial and sentencing, however. "I hope so," she admitted honestly.  
  
"Me too." Jake punctuated it with a firm and solemn nod of his curly head.  
  
They exchanged sweet smiles, neither knowing what to say next. Abby broke the silence with a much happier topic, "I have something for you. Remember Dr. Carter? He helped me pick it out." She moved to the doorway and waved over Carter, who looked grateful for the chance to escape Tricia.  
  
"A dog!" Jake squealed with delight when Carter stepped into the room, a fat, wriggling ball of puppy fur in his arms. Grinning, he passed the frisky beagle to the little boy. The adults, including Tricia, watched as Jake vigorously scratched his new pet's plump body while the beagle dove back and forth, tail wagging, in an attempt to lick dried-on Popsicle juice from the boy's hands. "Is it really mine? Trish said I can keep it??" He sounded amazed.  
  
"Yep, he's all yours," Abby confirmed.  
  
"I'm only taking care of it till you get better," Tricia added her two cents. "You gotta take care of it after that, Jakey."  
  
Jake agreed, not really paying attention to his sister, but addressing what Abby had said. "It's a boy?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Got a name picked out yet?" Carter asked, enjoying the scene. He liked kids. Hopefully one day he'd have some of his own. "How about Siegfried?"  
  
The looks he received from Abby and Jake were very similar, both unspoken, yet clearly understood as "Ew." He wondered why no one ever liked his suggestions for names.  
  
"I think I'll name him..." Jake's gaze wandered about the room, searching for inspiration. "I think I'll name him Abby."  
  
Carter snorted a laugh. "That's a girls' name."  
  
"So?" Jake challenged. "People name their kids after other people. I wanna name him," he patted the puppy on the head, "after Abby. You think it's a good idea, don't you?" He looked imploringly at the nurse.  
  
Carter was hiding a delighted grin behind his hand and Abby nudged him lightly with her elbow. "If that's what you want to name him, then go right ahead. Carter's just jealous you didn't name it after him."  
  
Satisfied, the boy smiled and motioned for Abby to come closer. When she stood at the edge of his bed, he got to his feet and gave her a quick, bashful peck on the cheek. "Thanks," he said, the beagle nipping at his bare toes as he sat back down.  
  
Abby thought how alike Jake was to Eric at that age. Sweet and a charmer. She missed her younger brother but she had decided not to call him for awhile. She didn't plan on telling her family what had happened to her. "You're welcome," she replied, her expression wistful and hard for even Carter to read.  
  
*************  
  
"Looks like you've got yourself a little admirer in there," Carter said, his eyes mischievous as he and Abby left the Miller's house and walked to the car.  
  
She smiled to herself, teasing him a bit in return. "I'm not the only one. You and 'Trish' hit it off pretty well from the looks of it."  
  
"Uhh, no. 'Trish' hit it off, I was being held against my will." Carter shook his head in disbelief. "I felt like I was on an interview. She's scary."  
  
"Aww, poor Trish. Did she ask you out?"  
  
"Actually..."  
  
Abby snickered. "She didn't!"  
  
"She did."  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
Carter was enjoying the banter that had been absent from so many of their conversations lately. He could see visiting Jake had done Abby some good and he was glad he hadn't talked her out of coming today. He wanted to occupy her time, fill up every second he could to prevent her from dwelling on Brian for even a moment. "I told her I only have six weeks to live," Carter deadpanned, the twinkle in his eye eventually giving him away.  
  
"You did not."  
  
"No, I told her I'm unattached and I would love to go out on a date with her, but there is a policy at the hospital that doesn't allow me to date patients or their family members."  
  
"Liar." Abby rolled her eyes. "You should have just told her you're dating Susan."  
  
"That would be a lie too," Carter said, trying to catch her reaction out of the corner of his eye as he went around to the driver's side of his vehicle.  
  
"What?" Abby had the door open but she stopped to look at him over the car roof.  
  
"Susan and I aren't together anymore. We decided that we make better friends than anything else." He watched her closely, intently.  
  
"Is that 'we' decided or SHE decided?" Abby meant to continue with the lightheartedness of before, but it had gotten lost somehow.  
  
"I guess you could say she did. But I was ready to tell her the same thing. There just wasn't any chemistry, you know? Not like..." He hesitated, wanting to come right out and say what he meant. Not like there was with Abby. Was she ready? "Not like there should be."  
  
Abby exhaled a slow stream of air that curled like smoke and made her crave a cigarette. She smirked as she thought about Carter saying those things would kill her. From anyone else she would have let it go in one ear and out the other. Carter's warnings hadn't helped her kick the habit, but he was the first person who had actually made her want to. She also knew that if it hadn't been for him seeing her through the past couple weeks she would have started drinking again. Escaping from pain with a good buzz was always easy when you were scared and alone, and it had been very tempting lately. But Abby fought it. She fought it with the reasoning that if she didn't remain sober for herself, she could at least do it for Carter. It was a risky negotiation, one that could create a relentless fear of losing him. But it worked. And for now she was willing to hold onto that. She wanted to give herself the freedom to trust somebody that much. She had earned it.  
  
Ducking in the car, Abby nestled into the passenger's seat. On the outside Carter mouthed a disappointed swear word, sure she either hadn't caught his hints or had and discarded them. He got in and turned the keys in the ignition without a word.  
  
"You owe me dinner."  
  
He blasted the heat and glanced over at her. "Huh?"  
  
"You wanted to go to Doc Magoo's the other night," she reminded him. "To talk about... something. We never got the chance. I thought maybe we could make up for it now." She held his gaze briefly before adding, "And if you would rather go somewhere other than Doc Magoo's I'm perfectly okay with that."  
  
Carter grinned, his confidence returning. "All right. But we have to stop by the house first."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I think that damn dog peed on my shirt."  
  
The car filled with Abby's laughter as they cruised down the street. It was the first natural and uninhibited laugh he had heard from her for a long time and it drove out the bitter edge from the blustery Chicago day. 


	11. Stronger

Chapter 11  
  
"Stronger"  
  
*************  
  
The self-defense classes were Susan's idea. She had heard about them from someone in her Yoga class who recommended them because of the great workout and, most importantly, the handsome instructor. It took some serious persuading, but Susan was finally able to drag a reluctant Abby along. In the months following the ordeal with Brian the two women had developed a friendship that was surprising to both of them. Susan put forth more of an effort to get to know the nurse, only because she felt sorry for her in the beginning. And Abby responded with a politeness that started out as guilt for - sort of - "stealing" Carter. Neither had expected that they would find so much in common or actually have fun spending time together. Now they were friends because they wanted to be, not out of pity or guilt. And at first the gym was just a place to hang out and get some exercise - to burn off the calories from all the pizzas Carter was ordering since he got fed up with being the only good cook in the house, Abby told Susan, and they had laughed - which was fine with Abby, but a self-defense class felt too much like a way to remind herself of being attacked. Sitting in a courtroom with Brian glancing over his shoulder at her every few minutes had been enough to do that. With him in prison and the blissful realization that she would never have to see his face again, Abby wanted to be rid of anything that might spark the slightest memory of the man who, more than once, came close to ending her life.  
  
Yet here she was limbering up in sweats and one of Carter's white t-shirts that had shrunk in the wash, her hair, lightened by the summer sun and longer than she usually kept it, tied back in a loose ponytail. It wasn't her first class. By now she could list off the names of almost every woman who attended and why they were there. Most just wanted to know a little more about protecting themselves, but there were some like Abby who had a deeper reason for showing up each week. She had left the first week telling herself and Susan she would never go back. Being pinned to a mat and struggling to get free, whether it was staged or not, was too reminiscent of the fateful night in her apartment. Somehow Susan managed to talk Abby into just tagging along next time to keep her company. Lame excuse, but it had worked and slowly but surely Abby began to join in with the activities. Instead of a constant reminder of her attacker it became a catharsis, a release for her too often repressed fury. Susan laughed when Abby confessed the euphoria she felt the first time she knocked down their instructor, who was at least twice her size.  
  
Less and less she grappled with the desire to drink.  
  
"So when are you and Carter getting hitched?" Susan arched her back, stretching forward to touch the tips of her tennis shoes.  
  
Abby stopped mid-lunge, hands on her hips, and looked down at her friend with a critical eye. "Hitched? Gee, I dunno. Not until Ma and Pa says it's ok, I reckon."  
  
Susan giggled and sat up in a cross-legged position. "It's just an expression. And that is the worst Southern accent I have ever heard."  
  
"What can I say? I'm from Minnesota." Plopping lightly onto the floor beside the woman, Abby leaned back on her hands, leaving her legs straight out in front of her. "Carter and I haven't really reached that... that..."  
  
"Level?"  
  
"Level. Yet. We're just taking it step by step." She knew it was a cliché, but it was true. The fact that her stay at Carter's had become permanent somewhere along the line didn't change the pace of their relationship. They'd had their awkward first date months ago and progressed from there like any normal couple. Any normal couple pushed together by abnormal circumstance.  
  
Susan let the explanation hang in the air for awhile and decided to move on lest she make Abby uncomfortable. She hummed the notes of a song that had suddenly popped into her head. Unable to place it at first, she continued to hum, despite the strange look Abby was giving her, until the lyrics finally came to mind and out of her mouth, "Step by step. Oooh, baby. Gonna get to ya gi-ii-irl..."  
  
They stared at each other in amazement before simultaneously bursting into laughter that drew some attention from the other members of their group.  
  
"Oh my God, did you just sing a New Kids on the Block song?!" Abby pronounced the band name with the playful insinuation that it was pure evil.  
  
Quieting the mirthful sounds with a hand over her mouth, Susan nodded. "Your 'step by step' thing reminded me of it. I haven't heard that song in years."  
  
"Well, that is something to be thankful for."  
  
"They weren't that bad. Donnie was cute."  
  
"Eh." Abby shrugged and avoided Susan's gaze so she could keep a straight face as she added, "I liked Joey."  
  
They were still giggling when the muscular instructor entered the room, flashing a smile that showed off his perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. His shaggy blond hair and piercing blue eyes looked even more vivid than usual, set off by the dark blue of his tank top and shorts. Susan mouthed 'Whoa' to Abby as they got to their feet.  
  
"All right, ladies, I'm gonna need two volunteers for this," the man was saying, waving everyone in the room over to him.  
  
Susan grabbed Abby's arm and towed her quickly forward, whispering in the shorter woman's ear, "Let's go kick some ass!"  
  
*************  
  
"Step one: We can have lots of fun."  
  
"Step two: There's so much we can do."  
  
Susan snapped her fingers several times as if that would help click the next verse together in her head. She and Abby were on their way through the doors of Cook County General, refreshed after what Susan called kicking "pretty boy" butt, and they were trying to remember the different steps to the NKOTB song. "Step three: It's... it's..."  
  
"Just you and me," Abby offered. "Step four-"  
  
"I can give you more!" They were both grinning when Frank looked up from behind the front desk and said,  
  
"Here comes trouble." He waited till they made it around to his side and questioned with a lifted eyebrow, "Does your mother know you're out, little girls?"  
  
"Watch it, Frank," Susan warned. "These little girls could take you DOWN." She teasingly jabbed at him with her fist and he scowled, rubbing his arm. As far as he was concerned, they were way too perky for this heat. He wanted to go home and vegetate in front of the air conditioner.  
  
Abby watched with amusement, unaware that Carter was behind her till she felt his hand on the small of her back. She tilted her face up for the customary kiss they greeted each other with these days. Susan smiled at them as she headed towards the lounge.  
  
"Remember, Abby. Ya-Yas on Friday."  
  
"Ya-Yas?" Carter sounded clueless.  
  
"Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood," Abby explained. "Neither of us has seen it yet so we made plans to go Friday. You can come if you want."  
  
Carter's expression was very similar to the one he wore when he had to work a double shift. "Uhh, I think I'll pass. Besides, I wouldn't want to interfere on your and Susan's date."  
  
"You're cute when you're jealous," Abby gibed, standing on tiptoe to claim another kiss. He willingly obliged, hugging her lightly around the waist and forgetting for a moment that they were at work. Frank clearing his throat in the background was a gruff reminder.  
  
"You smell nice," Carter murmured, lingering close for a second longer before they observed a respectable distance.  
  
"You like that? It's called shampoo." Abby smiled and ignored an annoyed groan from Frank. "I took a shower at the gym."  
  
The cranky desk clerk grumbled something about her and Carter both needing to take cold showers and get back to work. None of them noticed the person who had wandered over and patiently waited for an opening to speak.  
  
"Abby Lockhart?"  
  
"Yeah?" She turned to face a tall, sophisticated looking older woman whose red hair was swept up in a stylish bun that revealed wisps of silver at her temples and the nape of her neck. It immediately struck Abby how much the woman looked like Joyce, just as it had the first time she saw the lady seated in the back of the courtroom, weeping silently into a tissue.  
  
"Hello," the woman hesitated like it was hard to find the right words. "My name is Roberta Neill. This is my husband, Timothy." She gestured to the equally tall man at her side.  
  
"You might remember seeing us in court. We're Joyce's parents."  
  
Abby nodded and couldn't think of anything to say besides, "Hello." There was a long pause that Timothy finally interrupted by reaching out to shake her hand. She accepted then did the same when Roberta's hand was extended as well.  
  
"I hope it's all right for us to be here," Roberta said, a touch nervous as she glanced at the patients waiting in Chairs. "We didn't know where else to reach you."  
  
"Oh, it's..." Abby hoped she didn't sound as wary as she felt. She had avoided conversation with them before, just as they had seemed to avoid her, separated in their grief that was so raw at the time and could all be linked back to Brian. "That's fine."  
  
"We can't stay long," Timothy spoke up, rescuing them from another uncomfortable pause. He knew this was difficult for his wife and he had a feeling it was just as difficult for the young woman they'd come to see. He held Roberta's hand and looked at Abby with kind blue-gray eyes. "We're only passing through, but we wanted to stop and tell you how much we appreciate what you tried to do for our little girl. It was hard for us to say before because we couldn't believe she was really gone."  
  
Carter sensed the guilt that resurfaced in Abby. He'd never been able convince her that she had helped Joyce and that the woman's death was not her fault. They rarely spoke of it anymore.  
  
"I know you probably regret getting involved with Joyce and her problems," Roberta continued, "And I don't blame you. It's appalling what happened. We begged her not to marry that boy. I knew nothing good would come of it. When the abuse started we did everything we could to get her to leave him, but she refused. Then he moved her away from us." The woman choked up and had to stop.  
  
"What my wife is trying to say is though it may not seem like it, what you did was so significant. Joyce never would have listened to us, she wouldn't even listen when her friends persuaded her to leave Brian, but you were able to make her see what a monster that man is. You helped her, Miss Lockhart," Timothy emphasized the last line, noticing the doubt that flickered in the nurse's expressive brown eyes. "More than any of us could."  
  
About two months prior to this unexpected visit Abby had decided she was all cried out. She no longer woke from nightmares with a pillow wetted by tears. She had regained the ability to bottle her emotions away for safe keeping. But the Neill's gratitude shook up one of those bottles and Abby knew her eyes were red with unshed tears. "I just did what I thought was right. You don't have to thank me for that," she managed to say before the steadiness of her voice crumbled.  
  
Roberta pressed her lips together, composing herself, and dug into the purse that was suspended on her shoulder. "I have something for you," she said, her hand surfacing with a small box that she presented to Abby. "I had bought it for Joyce's birthday, but... never got the chance to give it to her. I'd like you to have it."  
  
"Oh, I couldn't," Abby shook her head lightly and didn't take the box.  
  
"Please." Roberta gently pushed the gift into Abby's hand, closing the nurse's fingers around it incase she tried to object again. The older woman's hand rested over Abby's momentarily and then she stepped back to her husband's side.  
  
Abby and the Neills exchanged wordless glances, then finally smiled at each other when in unison they all said, "Thank you."  
  
"Goodbye, Miss Lockhart," Timothy nodded to the woman and to Carter, who had been a silent witness of the entire scene.  
  
Roberta waved and added, "God bless you." And then they were gone.  
  
Frank had long since disappeared, so there was no one nearby but Carter to spy the single tear that slid down Abby's cheek as she looked at the box.  
  
"Open it," Carter encouraged, wanting to kiss that tear away. He hated to see her cry. But he also knew she needed to.  
  
Carefully Abby removed the lid to reveal a delicate silver chain threaded through a heart shaped pendant with a tiny angel, its wings spread and hands uplifted towards heaven, on the front. She lifted the pendant between her thumb and index finger, turning it over to see the inscription on the back which simply read "Freedom." It was beautiful and Abby didn't think she had any right to call it her own. But it was.  
  
"Here, let me," Carter held out his palm. He waited until she had lifted her long hair up on her head, baring the soft skin of her neck and shoulders and the tan he knew came from a casual stroll they had taken out by the water a few days before. With his nimble doctor fingers, Carter undid the clasp and looped the necklace around Abby's throat. When it was hooked in place, he leaned in to press his lips tenderly against the bronzed skin at the curve of her neck, thinking how fragile that spot had seemed when it was darkened by the hateful marks leftover from Brian's hands and how fragile it seemed now with the barely visible silver chain resting against it. He wished he could see if she was healing as well on the inside as she had on the outside.  
  
"Thank you, John." Abby turned to him, letting her hair fall back into place.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
"I don't just mean about the necklace," she said softly. "I mean for sticking with me through all of this and being so patient about... everything. I know it hasn't been easy for you, either. And I don't want you to feel obligated now-"  
  
"What are you saying?"  
  
She wasn't meeting his gaze and the words tumbled from her mouth hastily. "I'm saying if you want to move on I understand. I don't want you to think you have to take care of me or stay with me just because-"  
  
"Hey." Carter cupped her face in his hands, raising it so she had to look at him. "I haven't done anything because I thought I HAD to, I did it because I wanted to. You're important to me, Abby." He could feel the weight of what he was about to say on his tongue and he knew they were both ready to hear it. "I love you. And I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Abby had heard promises like that before from her father, her mother, her ex-husband - some of most essential people in her life - but coming from Carter it was the first time she let herself believe it. Maybe Joyce's parents were right and some good had come from an awful situation. Joyce, even if only for a little while, had been free and Abby, back to regular life but forever changed, had found someone to trust.  
  
THE END 


End file.
